


i’ll sift through the ashes in search of the spark

by WildKitte



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Barebacking, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Fixation, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Vampire Hunters, Vampire!Sylvain, sylvain doesn't like being a vampire, vampire hunter!felix, vampire saliva as a very mild aphrodisiac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitte/pseuds/WildKitte
Summary: It took Felix a long time to find him.Others tried to warn him Sylvain might already be beyond help, alone and vulnerable and recently turned. He could be just another vampire in search for blood, he could already be dead, poached by another hunter. But Felix had had a gut feeling: Sylvain was out there.*Sylvix Vampire Hunter AU
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 215





	i’ll sift through the ashes in search of the spark

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say, really. It's 5,6k of self-indulgent and dramatic vampire porn. Many thanks to [@_felain](https://twitter.com/_felain) for coming up with the AU and letting me run away with it, and providing the basis for the most important parts - you inspire me to no end and I am eternally grateful for your help. Thank you for practically co-authoring this with me, you're the best <3
> 
>  **Warnings before you read:**  
>  \- involves graphic blood drinking  
> \- sylvain has some self-destructive behavior (starving himself and suicide ideation) due to being turned into a vampire, but will NOT actualize this ideation  
> \- sylvain is not entirely on board with feeding from felix, so felix sorta force-feeds him through a kiss; sylvain eventually gets into it (and doesn't mind the kiss, only the blood feeding part), but be mindful if this is something that upsets you  
> \- vampire saliva is a mild aphrodisiac, but it's more of a mosquito-bite like itch than proper "drug" - Felix also just happens to be into blood play  
> \- sex is completely safe, sane and consensual
> 
> Title from Christy Ann Martine's poem "I was drawn to your flame inspired by your fire"
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: the wonderful _felain made an incredible [animation](https://twitter.com/_felain/status/1322565072410071040?s=20) of this AU, go look at it!!!

He ties Sylvain up while he’s unconscious.

He secures the rope around his wrists with a tight knot and hopes that it will hold – he has nothing else on hand right now. If Sylvain wants to break free, no rope nor Felix can stop him.

Felix looks down at the pale, quivering mess that used to be his partner. He doubts Sylvain will even try.

The apartment is an abandoned safehouse of theirs, and none of the other hunters should know to look for them here. There is a thick layer of dust on the floor and Felix tries to ignore the spiders running for cover in the corners. A single broken window lets in bright moonlight, the electricity has been turned off years ago and a lone coverless lamp hangs limp from the ceiling, swaying in the evening breeze.

It took Felix a long time to find him. Sylvain was good at hiding (they’d learned together, after all), so tracking him down was a real challenge, but Felix could not, would not, give up on his search.

Others tried to warn him Sylvain might already be beyond help, alone and vulnerable and recently turned. He could be just another vampire in search for blood, he could already be dead, poached by another hunter. But Felix had had a gut feeling: Sylvain was out there – surely, he would know if his partner was dead.

He scoured through their old hides and safe houses – he knew Sylvain was resourceful from years of hunting together, but even he had to resort to old comforts to survive. The local vampires knew him, so he couldn’t join and hide within a coven – and he wouldn’t, Felix knew he wouldn’t. He kept an eye on blood banks, but he’d already guessed it was a futile endeavour. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Sylvain had resorted to feeding from animals.

Two days ago, he got a lead from another hunter association – Claude was kind enough to deliver the message to him in secret: Sylvain had been seen near their old hideout complex, seemingly delirious and antsy. It took another 36 hours for Felix to hunt him down.

Looking at Sylvain now, he feels only guilt. Who was he to think that he was guiltless in his selfish pursuit of Sylvain, who was he to face the man he had already failed so deeply once? It was easy to live in denial and paint demons on the walls without looking at them, letting anxiety build and ignore it at the same time. But he had found him; the man he was so afraid he would never ( _ever_ ) see again.

Sylvain starts to stir, and trepidation starts constricting his throat – Felix will not approach him for now; he has no guarantee if Sylvain won’t attack him at first sight. He takes another step back and instinctively puts his hand over his knife holster when Sylvain grunts, slowly surfacing from deep sleep. Felix stays completely still and watches him gaining recognition. Will he recognise the apartment? Does he smell the blood pumping in Felix’s veins? Does he hear the frantic heartbeat in Felix’s chest?

Sylvain shakes, he is deathly pale, not only for his obvious undead state but from hunger too. His pupils are like pinpricks, darting all over the room, avoiding looking at Felix.

“Sylvain,” Felix says, quietly, and holds out a hand in front of him. “It’s Felix. Do you know who I am?”

Sylvain’s twitches in the restraints, and they both seem to hold their breath to see if they give in.

They don’t.

Sylvain slowly, slowly raises his head and looks at him. Felix meets his eyes and the relief that spreads within him as Sylvain’s eyes widen with recognition is almost enough to shatter him. He takes a small step forward and refuses to be hurt by Sylvain flinching back, away. Felix gets on one knee to level with him.

“It was really difficult to find you, you know,” he says. Sylvain is quiet for a moment and then clears his throat.

“It was on purpose.”

“I could tell.” Felix searches his face, eyes darting to map out lies or deceit. “Have you eaten?”

The effect is immediate – Sylvain’s eyes darken, and a deep rumble emanates out of his chest, like a growl.

“How dare you,” Sylvain spits, shaking, this time with anger. “Of course I haven’t.” Sylvain sounds so betrayed that it almost makes him feel ashamed.

“The entire time?”

Sylvain nods.

“You haven’t fed in two weeks? Not once?”

Sylvain nods again. Felix’s eyes widen in horror. So this is what Sylvain has been doing – hiding out his hunger and moving in the dead of the night to avoid the living, destroying himself in the meanwhile.

“You are,” _such an idiot_ , Felix wants to finish the sentence, fall back to old banter like nothing has changed, but he can’t bring himself to do so, to insult Sylvain’s anger like that.

Sylvain looks at him with a sad, mirthless smile.

“I was hoping it would be you.” He tries to shrug but the ropes are pulling his arms too tight for proper movement. “That you would… you know. That it would be you.”

All of Felix’s bravado dies out and he shivers. He bites his tongue until it starts to hurt to keep himself from tearing up. He hates it, feels ashamed for the emotion, he has no right to cry in front of Sylvain after what he has done to his best friend.

Instead, he shakes his head and says, with a tone that leaves no room for arguments:

“You have to eat. You’re about to starve to death, and I’ll make sure that will not happen.”

Sylvain blinks, almost owlish.

“No,” he says then. “Absolutely not. You can’t do this to me.”

“I am strong, and I have enough to spare,” Felix continues, decidedly not listening to him. “I have been eating well and preserving my energy for you.”

“Felix, I swear—”

“No, Sylvain—”

“I will _not_ ,” Sylvain growls, so loud that Felix flinches back, having to steady himself with his hands, “I will _not feed from you_.” Sylvain’s eyes are fires of fury, and his anger grows into a blazing flame. “You are _so fucked up_ , what the hell is _wrong with you_ , I can’t believe you would—that you would think I could hurt you like that. It’s a _no_.”

It’s hard to breathe.

He doesn’t want to be cruel.

But he must.

“Sylvain,” Felix begs, clambering to his feet and forcing himself to get closer despite the terror. “You have to eat.”

Sylvain shakes his head, his arms trembling and muscles flexing under the skin, as his sharpened claws grow and then retract as he tries to keep himself in check.

“No,” Sylvain whines, and Felix hates how his voice sounds – like it’s split in two octaves, his ordinary voice and the rumble of a horror underneath. “Please don’t, Felix—”

Felix caresses his face, fingertips brushing his little fangs (not yet grown, his turning so fresh) and then following his lip, plush under the touch.

“You’re losing control,” he explains, forcing his tone to steady and calm. “You have to feed, I know you hate it, but I can’t let you go like that. I will never forgive myself if I do.” He inhales a shuddering breath and steps over to loom above Sylvain’s bound form. “I don’t care. We don’t have time. I will save you. For you,” and he leans closer to Sylvain’s face, “I will do _anything_.”

Sylvain’s eyes are full of agony as he looks up at Felix, pupils blown with hunger but welling up with tears. Sylvain knows – knows he’s losing control and Felix hates himself. He can live with that. But not without Sylvain.

“Stay still,” he says, pointedly ignoring Sylvain sobbing _please, Felix_ , but Sylvain at least listens his demand or is just too weak to break free.

When he takes out his knife, Sylvain slumps against the rope, closing his eyes in relief (because he thinks, _he thinks Felix is capable—_ ) and Felix’s stomach lurches at the sight. In that moment he hates Sylvain, hates him so fiercely that it suffocates him, and yet it has nothing, _nothing_ on the love for him that now holds the blade in his fist.

A glint of moonlight glosses over the knife as he brings it down and cuts his arm.

Felix grunts at the pain – the sensation of flesh cutting open is never nice, even with a blade so sharp and precise – and blood splatters on the ground. Immediately holds his hand up – he can’t throw away what little he has to give.

He can see the moment Sylvain smells him. His eyes shoot open as a pained wail escapes from his lips, but his fangs are already elongating, eyes turning completely black with hunger. Felix takes hold of the rope with his good hand and hoists a leg over Sylvain’s lap to sit on him.

He doesn’t know if Sylvain can even see him, but his pupils widen and retract in pulses, like he’s trying to hold the beast back, and for that Felix is grateful. He tries to bring his arm to Sylvain’s mouth, but Sylvain starts thrashing, arching his neck to get away from Felix, and he whines, pitiful and broken, _please, no, don’t make me_.

Felix’s head feels like static.

“Okay,” he says, aiming for soothing, and lifting his cut arm again he thinks, absent-mindedly caressing Sylvain’s neck with his other hand. “Okay, I won’t make you, I’m not…”

He looks at the blood trickling down his forearm and an idea forms in his head. His heart throbs as he turns to look at Sylvain. Sylvain is still looking away, eyes scrunched shut, and breathing heavily as sweat gathers on his forehead – he is a vision in the moonlight, even in this shitty apartment, bare with sterile tiled walls and unfinished floor covered in dust, he is the most beautiful man Felix has ever seen. He makes up his mind on the spot.

“Sylvain,” he says softly, like coaxing out a scared animal, and like enchanted by his voice Sylvain looks up at him, tears streaming down his face. “Stay still. You will be okay. It will all be okay.”

Sylvain’s lips part as he gazes up at Felix, like in wonder, and the trust in his eyes makes Felix’s throat close up.

Without breaking eye contact he brings his forearm to his face and licks up a long stripe, gathering the spilled blood in his mouth. There isn’t much, so when he gets to the wound itself, he delves his tongue in and gathers the blood on his tongue, ignoring the pain, lapping it up like a dog.

Sylvain’s eyes widen, but he stays still, legs shaking under Felix’s thighs. Felix turns to look at him, mouth pinched closed, and then leans down.

Sylvain’s mouth is already open so it’s easy for him to push his tongue in. Sylvain convulses under him, arms writhing against the ropes and blood spits out of his mouth as he struggles for a last, desperate moment.

And then he goes completely lax, and answers Felix’s kiss. Their tongues slide together and Sylvain hums against his lips, and the urgency turns into tender affection. Felix’s blood swirls between their tongues and Felix pushes it in Sylvain’s mouth, while his mind goes all white and hazy with the wet sensation of Sylvain’s lips against his. When Felix pulls back, Sylvain follows, like he’s unable to let Felix go, lips lingering in a close-mouthed kiss.

Felix doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them again, he finds Sylvain looking at him like he’s the moon and the sun and the stars in the sky.

The rope snaps and Sylvain, now free of his restraints, pounces on him.

Terror seizes him by the throat and Felix pushes him off with a shout, crawling away from underneath Sylvain. He doesn’t get far, Sylvain yanks him backwards by the leg, and Felix kicks his hand; the grip loosens for a moment enough for him to scramble to the wall.

That is where Sylvain corners him, pinning against the wall, and his hot breaths puff against Felix’s skin. A feral sound tears from Sylvain’s throat as he presses his nose against Felix’s pulse point, and Felix knows Sylvain can hear the pounding of his heartbeat just as clearly as it thunders in his own ears. Sylvain growls at him and Felix hisses as his claws dig into his shoulders. Sylvain opens his mouth, wetting his lips with his tongue – Felix freezes completely, heart slamming in his throat with adrenaline and fear. The cut on his arm smarts, his head is swimming, lips throbbing from the kiss, and then Sylvain presses his tongue on Felix’s skin.

Felix lets out a quivering sigh, his hand finding its way to Sylvain’s head, fingers sliding in his hair. Sylvain laves at the sensitive skin and then presses an open-mouthed kiss there. For a moment time stands still, as Felix waits, his body starting to shiver, and Sylvain takes his time and then—

Teeth break through the tension of his skin and sink deep into his flesh. Pain bursts first, and Felix moans; Sylvain huffs, hungry, and gathers his body closer like a madman, and then comes pleasure, blooming in his crotch and spreading like mercury across his body, pulsing alongside his heartbeat as Sylvain feasts on his neck, sucking and drinking, groaning in between gulps. Felix moans louder, his hips undulating against Sylvain, his head dizzy with the double sensation of pain and bliss. It’s like Sylvain is sucking out his soul, and he wants nothing more than to give it to him, his thoughts are muddled but through the haze, clear like a bell, rings _Sylvain_ and _mine_ , and finally the tears he’s been holding back spring free.

His breath hitching as a sob breaks through his restraint, he pulls Sylvain closer. Agony rises in his chest and he cries in Sylvain’s hair as pleasure mounts and his cock hardens in his pants.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, “I’m so sorry, Sylvain.” Sylvain twitches against him and then starts to tremble in Felix’s arms as Felix rubs his crotch on Sylvain’s thigh, desperate to get closer, to climb in Sylvain’s skin and sleep there forever.

With a groan Sylvain comes up for air, and blood pulses out of the bitemarks. Felix feels light-headed at the blood pearling at the wound and moans again, and then louder when Sylvain licks across the gash. It’s like an itch, Sylvain’s saliva on his skin, his tongue like a lover’s caress. The licks turn into kisses as Sylvain mouths his way up Felix’s throat, sucking a bruise right on the sensitive spot under Felix’s ear. The mark on his neck throbs with pain, but Felix only whines at the sensation, his cock leaking in its confines, forming a wet spot on his front.

“ _Felix_ ,” Sylvain whimpers in his ear and Felix turns his head to catch his lips in a deep kiss, delving into Sylvain’s mouth as he tastes himself on Sylvain’s tongue.

“Please,” he sobs against Sylvain’s lips, “Please, it hurts, touch me, _touch me_.”

It aches, it _aches_ within his soul, to be closer, to make up for everything. He wants Sylvain to know, look deep within him and see him for who he is, for who he loves – and he weeps at the loss of a life spent together, at the fervent hunger and pain in Sylvain’s hooded eyes.

Sylvain pulls away without breaking eye contact, and his hand ventures down to grab Felix’s injured arm. He picks it up and inspects the cut, breathing in the scent of Felix’s blood, and then brings the cut to his lips. Felix hisses as Sylvain laves his tongue over the cut, digging into the flesh as he laps up more blood so that it drips down his chin. Slowly, the stream of blood starts dying down and the cut starts to heal while Sylvain sucks out the last droplets, and then licks the excess drying on Felix’s skin.

They look at each other for a moment, both breathing heavily. Sweat clings on Felix’s forehead, his bangs sticking to his skin. Sylvain’s eyes flicker for a moment across his face, like imprinting it to memory, and then he presses their foreheads together, cool against warm.

“Felix,” he says, like a prayer, like it’s the only name he knows. Blood is smeared all over his mouth; he looks like a mess. Felix’s heart throbs, and then breaks all over again when Sylvain kisses him softly – just a press of lips, the tang of blood permeating all around them.

“Don’t go,” Felix says. “Come back to me, please.” He cups Sylvain’s cheeks and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“I want you,” Sylvain whispers and Felix nods, twice, urgent, pulling him in another tender kiss, nipping Sylvain’s lip with his teeth.

“Touch me,” he repeats.

Sylvain’s hands are careful as he pulls off Felix’s pants and shoes, chucking them aside without care. Felix hisses as his cock is exposed to the cool air, but Sylvain’s hands hold him tight as he hoists Felix in his lap. Felix’s arms wind around his neck and he rubs against Sylvain, drawing out a needy groan. Sylvain’s nails dig into the supple flesh of Felix’s buttocks, leaving bright red marks on his pale skin and Felix hums with twisted satisfaction. It feels real, this way, the pain grounds him and reminds him that _this is happening_. He wants to bear the marks of Sylvain branded on his skin.

It’s dizzying, Sylvain’s cool hands on his skin – he’s warming up from Felix’s blood flowing inside him. Another rush of pleasure reverberates through Felix’s body at the thought and he whimpers, his cock leaking precum on Sylvain’s pants, staining the fabric. Sylvain groans with him, and latches onto his neck, incisors teasing but not breaking skin. Felix’s own blood is smearing on him in Sylvain’s wake and it makes him shiver; it shouldn’t be hot, but it makes his mouth dry with want.

 _Closer_ , his body demands, and a primal urge builds in his guts, and he gasps out loud:

“Sword oil, in my knife sheath.”

Sylvain hesitates for a moment and Felix groans, impatient:

“I want you in me, _hurry up_.”

A shudder travels through Sylvain’s body and he mumbles a strained _fuck_ in Felix’s neck and then pulls back enough to feel around for Felix’s discarded pants and grabs the holster with trembling fingers, almost dropping it.

Felix grabs the vial eagerly and pours it on his fingers, too needy to be embarrassed, and reaches behind to rub at his hole. Sylvain watches him with a dark sort of intensity, his hands traveling up Felix’s hips to his waist, and snaking under his shirt to tease at his nipples. Felix gasps, dipping two fingers in at once, ignoring the sting running up his spine at the intrusion. It’s been so long since he’s gotten laid – he couldn’t pick up warm bodies during his search, it felt wrong to search for anything but red hair and brown eyes. The only relief he got were in the late hours of the night, hand in his pants to jerk himself to hasty completion that only left him feeling ashamed and unsatisfied, biting his lip to not cry out for Sylvain’s name as he came.

And here he is, finally taking what he always wanted, Sylvain willingly giving him his eager hands, mapping his body like imprinting it to memory, claws digging in like a hunter clutching its prey and Felix submits to his possession without protest.

He rocks his hips on his fingers, moaning as he finds his prostate. Sylvain empties the rest of the vial on his fingers and starts stroking Felix’s cock – a desperate whine pushes its way up Felix’s throat at the friction. He fumbles Sylvain’s pants open with his free hand and Sylvain growls when his cock is exposed to the cool air and then enclosed in Felix’s slippery palm. It makes Felix’s heart beat just louder, he knows Sylvain hears it clearly, breathing heavier, hungrier, on his pulse point. Sylvain’s big in his hand, and he can’t wait to get it in him, to have Sylvain sink his teeth in his neck again and—

The thought makes him hot and he wants, _he wants_ —

“Bite me, _fuck me_ , please, just get in me,” he slips his fingers out of his hole and Sylvain whines as Felix rubs the head of Sylvain’s cock and then down, lubing him up as much as he can before he guides it in him. They both groan as Sylvain sinks in – Felix feels so full, Sylvain feels big inside him after months of _emptiness_ , and he winds his arms around Sylvain’s shoulders again, grinding himself closer. Sylvain’s cock twitches, slicking him up inside with precum and Felix shivers. Sylvain’s teeth scrape his neck, his hands hovering over Felix’s waist, almost afraid.

“Touch me,” Felix hisses, and bites his earlobe to make a point. Sylvain groans and his claws sink in his skin, pulling Felix against him roughly. He starts a rough, uneven rhythm, fucks up into Felix’s hole with fervour, pressing him against the rough tile wall. Felix wails at the ruthless pace, squeezing around Sylvain’s cock as a flash of pain travels through him like a lightning strike; and then it’s like his head empties of all thought and it’s all _pleasure_.

“Sylvain, Sylvain,” Felix moans and pulls Sylvain’s head up by the hair. He swallows Sylvain’s moan into a crushing kiss, Sylvain’s incisors splitting his lip open and they both groan as blood gathers on the plush of his lip and mixes in with the saliva, tongues exploring, Sylvain licking into his mouth with urgency. Felix cups his cheek and pulls at the lip, feeling Sylvain’s teeth and Sylvain pulls away to nip at his thumb, thrusting up just as he bites down and the head of his cock presses against Felix’s prostate. Felix whines and pushes his thumb inside Sylvain’s mouth, feeling the teeth with his calloused fingertip and Sylvain sucks on it like he would Felix’s cock and the idea of that kiss-bruised mouth on his dick makes his hips twitch and cant to a better position, where Sylvain’s cock drags over his prostate over and over again.

Sylvain’s left hand travels up his back and it’s almost feathery light compared to the vice grip of his right hand on Felix’s hip, worshipping the rippling back muscles and smooth skin as they move together. He’s reverent, and when he leans down to kiss Felix again, it’s almost tender in its urgency. Sylvain worships him, his hips gyrating up to fill Felix up and Felix loves him, he _loves him_ , and he wants to hold him in his arms forever. The run-down apartment disappears around them as his head fills with Sylvain’s name and his soul reaches out to twine with Sylvain’s and suddenly tears spring in his eyes again. It’s unfair, it’s so unfair it has to be like this, that this is how they come together when they used to have so much time. The future stretched out in front of them _until death do us part_ – and here it is; _until death_ , the universe’s last laugh.

Before he knows it, he’s crying, gasping as Sylvain thrusts in him, and he kisses him deeper, his tongue running over Sylvain’s teeth, enjoying the thrill of danger. He kisses Sylvain intensely, profoundly, what he can’t put into words he tries to pour into Sylvain’s mouth; all of the lost opportunities and all of his feelings, like his life depends on the holy grace of Sylvain’s lips on his. He can feel orgasm building in the shaking of his body, stars bursting like champagne in his eyes as he pulls away from the kiss and they breathe warm, damp breaths in each other’s mouths, lips brushing together. Sylvain’s eyes are open and he looks at Felix, _looks at him_ , and Felix knows he can see deep within him, the love burning in his chest reflected in Sylvain’s eyes. His face crumples with the surge of regret and happiness – he wants to burn himself, become an ashen imprint in Sylvain’s lap, become permanent ink on his skin. The slap of flesh against flesh as Sylvain fucks him is intoxicating – he’s so wet, Sylvain’s precum mixing with the oil and squelching, dribbling on the cement floor. He’s sweaty, his muscles are cramping, but he plants his feet on the ground and rides Sylvain’s cock, chasing the pleasure, on the cusp of orgasm. He bucks against Sylvain, who lets out a broken gasp and picks up the rhythm, and Felix _keens_ , whining for release—

And then desire, like a flash of lightning, pierces through the haze:

“Bite me,” Felix moans and Sylvain “Bite me, I want your _teeth on me_ —”

Sylvain growls and cants his hips for a better, harsh angle, closer, _closer_ , so close he’s only gyrating against Felix’s hips and then – sinks his teeth in Felix’s throat, a burst of blood exploding in Sylvain’s mouth.

Felix comes with a shout, toes curling and thighs shaking with the pleasure, Sylvain still thrusting in him four, five more times before he spills over too, cumming deep in Felix’s body. Felix’s blood spurts out in pulses, drenching Sylvain’s face in red, trickling down his chin and Felix’s chest. Felix trembles, the blood hot against his cooling skin, and groans again as Sylvain laps it up with gusto, until he licks over the bitemark and it slowly closes up, throbbing like an unbearable itch under his skin.

Sylvain pants against him for a moment, chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing. His cum is slowly trickling out of Felix’s hole, dripping on the dirty floor, but they don’t bother to pull apart. Sylvain presses his head in the dip between Felix’s shoulder and neck, and Felix’s hands rise up to cradle him like a child.

His head feels completely empty and he’s vaguely aware of Sylvain sucking on the bitemark and how the wound starts to grow shut and, _oh_ —

“Aphrodisiac,” he groans, and Sylvain stills completely. “Your saliva, it’s an aphrodisiac now, isn’t it?”

Felix sighs, shivering in Sylvain’s arms, and then he looks at Sylvain, who in turn looks _terrified_.

Felix can guess what he’s thinking. Sylvain is a good man, and a good person – so he is afraid of taking advantage, he’s afraid he’s forced Felix into this, and Felix can already see the guilt building up, how he’ll berate and hate himself later. But it’s not that at all; this has been a long time coming, and so Felix presses their foreheads together, noses brushing, and whispers:

“It’s okay.” Sylvain opens his mouth to say something, but Felix shushes him. “You’re like a goddamn mosquito now…” He runs a hand through Sylvain’s hair, scratching his skull with his nails, revelling in the deep rumble that emanates from Sylvain’s chest.

“You should have killed me,” Sylvain says, voice barely above a whisper.

“You know I can’t.”

“It’s so bitter,” Sylvain hisses. “I just wanted to love you, and this is how we come together?” He pulls Felix closer, his claws digging in his back painfully. “Why couldn’t I just have died? Why did you have to look for me when we would both have been happier if I died?”

Felix clutches Sylvain tighter. He can’t disagree; he also feels the disappointment rolling in his guts.

“Let me stay like this,” Sylvain says then, his hands dropping from Felix’s back and Felix immediately misses their cool touch. “Just let me stay and hold me when the sun burns me alive.”

Felix shakes his head.

“No,” he answers. “You can’t ask that of me. We will figure this out, find a way to—”

“What, cure me?” Sylvain’s laugh is raspy and cruel.

“To live with it. To survive.”

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment, and the moon hides behind a cloud drifting by in the night breeze. Felix feels sticky, there is cum and sweat drying on his skin, but he can’t move an inch. If he lets go now, he will lose Sylvain forever, this is certain.

“Sylvain,” he says, and his voice is pathetically meek.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Felix’s grip tightens even more, and he knows he’s crushing Sylvain against his chest, but he can’t bear to be apart, his skin singing as he tries to merge them together like two galaxies pulling each other apart into a single spiral of light.

“I love you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Sylvain,” he sobs into Sylvain’s neck, knowing he’s staining his shirt with his tears, and Sylvain starts to shake under him. “I’m sorry I let this happen to you, forgive me, I love—”

“Shh.” Sylvain’s voice cracks with emotion, and he buries his fingers in Felix’s messy hair. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Felix cries in his arms until there are no more tears left.

The aftermath is awkward – a mix of cum and oil dribbles down Felix’s thighs as he stands up to find a towel to clean the both of them. Sylvain remains seated on the floor while Felix puts on his clothes and throws away the towel.

He goes to wash his hands in the bathroom and when he looks in the mirror, he almost can’t recognise himself – red-rimmed eyes and blood staining his mouth.

He looks like Sylvain. The water turns cold.

“I’m afraid there is no shower,” he says as he comes back, voice hoarse. Sylvain doesn’t look at him and Felix just stands there, watching him.

He looks a little more alive than before. Felix blushes in spite of himself and clears his throat. His mouth feels dry like cotton.

“So what do we do?” Sylvain asks. He sounds helpless and small, and Felix swallows.

“I don’t know.”

“Then you should—”

“I’m not going to let you die. Or kill you. I can’t do it.” He tries to sound resolute, build some finality in his voice, even when admitting to weakness. “My main concern is to keep you safe from other hunters.”

Sylvain smirks at him, humourless.

“I fooled you for a good while. I don’t think the rest of them stand a chance.”

Felix bites his lip and regrets it immediately as the swollen wound aches.

“I don’t want to be separated again. If you can… stand to do it, we could keep hunting together.” Sylvain cocks his head and Felix continues: “You being a vampire now gives us a perfect opportunity to infiltrate nests unlike before. You’re technically one of them now.” He ignores Sylvain’s flinch. No need to sugar-coat the situation. “We’d finally have the upper hand against the bloodsuckers.”

Sylvain is quiet for a second.

“No,” he says then. “It’s… I can’t. Not yet.”

Felix doesn’t know what that means. Instead he crosses the room to Sylvain and sits down across him, framing Sylvain’s hips with his legs.

“I will find you,” he says, and means it.

Sylvain’s smile turns sincere and unfairly soft. He raises a hand to graze Felix’s cheek, a loving touch.

“Sylvain,” his cheeks are burning, but Sylvain shushes him. Before Felix can snap back with anger, he says instead:

“I love you too.”

Felix hates him so much.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He’s afraid Sylvain feels _obligated_ , to answer a slip of tongue in the heat of the moment – as genuine as the sentiment was, and is, and will always be.

“But it’s true.”

Felix finds no lie in Sylvain’s eyes and he hides his face in his hands.

Sylvain lifts his hands off to press a tender, feather-light kiss on his lips. Felix surges up into it, tries to feed Sylvain all the honesty and devotion and loyalty burning in his heart, and Sylvain answers, he answers – all the years they waited, dancing around the truth, settling for the familiar and lingering touches until it was too late, they wasted so much time. Felix is tired to the bone, but the feeling of Sylvain’s mouth on his is warm like sunlight, love pouring over like golden honey, sugar sticking to his lips.

Sylvain sighs into the kiss and then slowly pulls back.

“Sleep,” he says. He then tugs at Felix’s shirt and Felix follows, like he always does, leaning into his arms.

They fall asleep like that, in each other’s arms, Sylvain cradling the back of his head and Felix’s arms circling his waist.

The moon glows, bathing them in its light, and clouds sail across the sky with the night breeze, casting shadows over their bodies.

In the morning Sylvain is gone.

Felix gets up from where he was sleeping slumped against the tiled wall, and he finds Sylvain’s coat draped over him. It still smells like him – not of blood or terror but _Sylvain_ , and for a moment Felix indulges, buries his head in the fabric and inhales.

For a brief flash he feels trepidation as he turns his attention to the beam of sun shining through the broken window – but there is no ash or rumpled clothes, so it is safe to assume that Sylvain has only left him behind, slipping into the dawn while the shadows were still long.

Felix sits and thinks for a moment.

Sylvain doesn’t want him to follow, but he is a fool if he thinks Felix will back off and give up now, after all the trouble he has gone through. A plan forms in his mind as he goes through all the possible routes Sylvain must have taken, how he will track him down now that he knows where to start.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He looks longingly at the coat in his hands. “He’s an idiot,” he says to no one, and buries his head in Sylvain’s scent one last time.

He cleans himself up and is out of the door within 20 minutes.

At the door he takes a last glance at the dusty apartment, and then steps out, the door closing with a definitive click.

He found Sylvain once.

It will be no trouble to find him again.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> A friendly reminder not to use sword oil as a lubricant.
> 
> EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to link it earlier but [hekxate](https://twitter.com/hekxate) on twitter made some [art](https://twitter.com/hekxate/status/1262730932273856513) inspired by this, go look at it!!!!  
> EDIT EDIT: Now more [art](https://twitter.com/_felain/status/1294808702252470275?s=19), from the wonderful _felain again!!
> 
> My nsfw twitter [@NSFWildkitte](https://twitter.com/nsfwildkitte)  
> The account is private, must have age in bio byf


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